Märchen
by sorutan
Summary: As night falls across the forest, seven dead princesses gather for the great comedy of revenge. A retelling of "Märchen" by Sound Horizon with Nintendo characters.
1. The Fairytale of Light and Shadow

**AN: Writing this little thing in attempt to get my mojo back for Time Mistress.**

 **HELLO WELCOME TO THE FUCK TRAIN. I should note that this fic is heavily, HEAVILY based off of the story from Sound Horizon's 7th Horizon, "Märchen," and their maxisingle "Ido e Itaru Mori e Itaru Ido," which, in turn, is based off of various German fairytales, such as Snow White and Hansel & Gretel, to name a few. While it isn't necessary, I do recommend listening to the album just to get a better context of the story. The audio isn't available online, but I've put a link to the live performance of it on my profile. I try my best, but they do a much better job telling the original story, naturally. Also, the music is fantastic; it's all done by Revo, who composed works such as the Bravely Default soundtrack, both Attack on Titan theme songs, and Sailor Moon Crystal's theme song.**

 **While I want people to understand the basic storyline, I've intended to write this as cryptic as I can, as per tradition of Sound Horizon's style of storytelling. Don't worry if you can't understand some things that well, just try your best and interpret it however you wish. To quote Revo, any interpretation is true.**

 **On with the show!**

* * *

The siblings were dashing along their way to the court square. There was to be a witch burning today, and the older brothers were too excited to stay still and wait for the little sister to catch up.

"Brother wait up!" the little girl cried as the two brothers ran along, giggling and screaming. When they passed by the village well, she tripped and skidded into the cold cobblestone of its shaft and began to cry.

The oldest brother took notice and ran back to her side. "Ohhh, sorry, sis, that must've hurt real bad." He wiped off the beading blood with the hem of his shirt, then was quick to kiss the injury, just like his mother told him too.

The younger brother sighed, irritated at the events and how they were going to be late to the burning. His eyes glazed over to the well, but soon saw something fall over the rim and into the dirt below. "Hey, look, something fell out of the well over there!"

The notion distracted the little sister enough for her to stop crying and wipe away her tears. "Really?" the oldest brother questioned as he sat the little sister up against the cobblestone. "Where?"

The younger brother picked up the object, a leatherbound book dyed in a deep, dark red and inscribed with an unintelligible set of words in gold. Perhaps he was too young to understand them, since he was only but a child, or perhaps it was a different language than his own, beyond his comprehension. He wasn't too sure. He brought the book to his siblings, but the oldest brother didn't seem to understand the writing either.

The little sister sniffed and opened the book with her small hands as it plopped into her lap, a cloud of dust billowing into the air. The language was a little more legible now, though the sister would probably have to ask her older brothers what a few of the words were. There were pictures of many ladies of different colors, most notably one with brown hair and a purple dress. She was really beautiful, but looked very sad and lonely as she looked out a window into the moonlit sky. Another picture was of a man in black and red, his ears slender and pointed, as he held a doll in scarlet and smiled serenely.

The younger brother gasped. "I know what this is! It's a fairytale! With princesses and dragons and stuff!"

"I don't see any of that…" the little sister whined, sniffing once more.

"We can find out if there are some there, though," the oldest brother said, and turned to the very first page for the little sister. "Here, I'll read it for you. 'Once upon a time...'"

* * *

"Man… this village is desolated! It's almost like a graveyard!"

"Didn't you know, though, that all fairytales start in a graveyard?"

The village was indeed quiet. Tucked away in the deep green forest in some far away land, the area was laced with a silver fog in the dark shades of the newly night sky. The buildings were almost entirely in shambles, from scorch marks slashed across the roofs to the caved in wooden walls that were once poorly constructed from twigs and mud. The floors and paths were littered with crumbling stone, perhaps a buried ivory bone once in a while. In the center of it all was a cobblestone well draped in moss and mist. Beneath the earth where the well laid was the faintest hint of a rumble, as if a silent language was spoken and the well was its mouth.

A man dyed in black lounged on the rim of the well, combing the ashen blonde hair a petite, porcelain doll in red with his fingers. His tailored suit was pinstriped with red undersides and adorned with dull chains and triangle buttons. His slender, pointed ears were pierced with red hoops, and his ink hair shaded his piercing red eyes and sadistic, content smile.

The doll creaked her head towards her groomer, a stagnant smile plastered on her glass face. "Why isn't anyone in this village anymore, though?" she asked in a sing-song, innocent voice.

"Everyone who lived here all died a very long time ago," he simply responded.

"Why did everyone die?"

"Something called the Black Plague killed everyone."

The doll turned towards the edge of the forest, where a woman in turquoise and her child with pointed ears in tow walked towards one of the abandoned huts, their giggles and smiles brightening the dark painted village.

"Then why is that mother and child living in this village?"

The man's gloved hands stroked the cobblestone of the well. "That's because the Water Well called to them."

The doll turned back to the man with that unsettling, permanent smile of hers, as if the two were exchanging a humorous joke. "Why did the Water Well call to them?"

The man smiled back. "Because the Water Well was born to do so?" He hummed a soft tune while he continued to brush her hair.

"Humans are such dense creatures," the doll giggled. "Their basic needs, their _Id_ make them fall for these kinds of temptations."

"Isn't it natural for them, though?" He gave words to the tune he was humming. "Don't you hear its song? 'Life is to live, to multiply, to kill, and to raid.' Every human believes this and lives by this, deep down. The Water Well just helps them realize this."

"We'll help them realize this, too, right? We'll grant them their sick revenges, right?"

"Of course, Sheik."

* * *

The child Link was lonely, even if it was hard to admit to himself, or if he hadn't even realized it. His doll that his best friend gave him was supposed to compensate for her absence, but every time he stared at it, he was reminded of her likeness and of her kid, cute nature, and he grew sad once more. He couldn't really help it, since the doll was made to look exactly like her with her brown hair and porcelain smile.

But his mother said that they had to move away deeper into the forest, into the abandoned village they now called home, for their safety and for his happiness. So he had to at least act happy for her. Playing with his doll was the best way he could act the part, even if it made him sad.

Echoing voices interrupted his monotonous routine, and he saw two men wandering through the trees of the deep green forest. His mother warned him to be wary of strangers, but his adventurous curiosity was strong, and he couldn't help but follow them, though he was cautious to remain hidden.

When he got a closer look, he noticed the beautiful white wings sprouting from one of the men's backs, and Link thought that he could've been a real angel from heaven if he wasn't so atrociously fat. The stranger was even currently eating, his white tunic stained and his bushy brown hair greasy. He munched away on a butter-greased loaf of bread while the other man, a tall, spindly man with a strange red hat and striped peasant's clothes was complaining in a harsh, squeaky voice.

"Goddesses, are we even on the right path?" the man in the red hat scoffed, his beady eyes watery from the profusive sweat the fat angel released. "You're no help here, anyway, Angel, all you're doing is eating. Man, will you ever stop…"

With bread in his mouth, the angel murmured something incoherent in retort.

"Can't understand ya, big guy. Goddesses, this bounty that Agency put up better be worth all this." A snap of a twig in the nearby wood caught his attention, and when the man laid eyes upon the ruffle of golden hair, the long and slender ears, and his startling blue eyes of Link, he gasped and whispered something into Angel's ears. The child gasped as he met the eyes of the man in the red hat, clutching his doll for dear life.

"Hey, it's ok!" the man soothed in his razor voice. "There's no need to be scared, we're just a couple of guys looking for help! Come over here, kid, we just wanna talk."

Link hesitated, but they seemed trustful enough, especially since the man started acting nice. His mother kept him isolated from the rest of the world, so he really didn't know what was and wasn't evil in this place. Besides, he had said that they were looking for help, so perhaps they were one of his mother's patients!

Link stepped out from behind the bark, his doll in tow. The man laughed as the group made their way to the child, patting Link's golden head of hair. "What a good kid. Your mother taught you well, yeah?"

Link only nodded his head, unable to find his voice.

The name flashed a toothy grin as he got on his knee to meet the child's line of vision. "My name's Ness, and this is my partner, Angel." The fat winged man waved a chubby hand, a large piece of bread hanging from his mouth. "You don't happen to know where I can find the Priestess of the Stars, right?" When Link didn't respond to the title, Ness corrected himself. "Rosalina von Sterne? You know who that is?"

Link's eyes lit up upon the recognition. "That's my mother's name, mister."

"Aha, I knew it! You have that same rumored eyes of hers, yeah. The beautiful blue with that twinkle." Ness rubbed his nose. "Now, my friend and I are looking for some _sagely advice_ from her. Would ya mind leading us to her, so that we can get some help? We'd really appreciate it."

A smile traced Link's face as he nodded. His mother loved helping others with their ailments, and he loved making his mother happy, too!

The man bursted into a coarse, vulgar laughter, but Link couldn't tell that it was bad. "Smart kid!" He rose from the dirt of the forest, slapping his partner on the back. "Lead the way, boy!"

The trek through the forest was a near silent one. While Link wanted to ask questions on who the strangers were and what they wanted to ask his mother, Ness brushed away any inquiries with a simple grunt. He was too busy laughing quietly at some joke, so Link didn't mind. It was rude to bother someone, anyway!

They finally made it through the forest and into the abandoned village after a long journey. While Ness and Angel looked around curiously with gawked expressions and wide jaws, Link led them to his home, the most structurally sound hut in the vicinity, where a pillar of smoke and the scent of his favorite pumpkin soup was wafting through the air. That meant dinner was almost ready, since it was almost sunset. His stomach growled in anticipation.

"Wait here," he ushered, and the two men waited by the mossy well in the center of the village. He wrapped around the house to their backyard where they kept their small supply of livestock, and his mother, beautiful and as radiant as ever, was gathering herbs once more.

"Link? Where've you been, my dear?" Rosalina questioned as her son ran to her waist and embraced her tightly. The movement made her lacy, turquoise robes billow.

"It is late," she chastised as she stroked his head. "Dinner is almost ready. Why were you in the forest so late?"

" _Mutti_ , there are some men here looking for you. They said they needed your help."

"Really…? At this hour?" The woman looked onward to the dark forest that cloaked the descending sun. "Lead me to them. It is late, but I can see what I can do."

With a pleasant, innocent smile, Link led his mother with his free hand around the house and to the well where the men waited, taking care in making sure that his doll didn't drag against the dirt road. He scampered to the well, sitting on its rim and began playing with his doll, as his mother was now going to do her important business and he didn't want to distract her.

However, Rosalina felt a twinge of unsettlement in her stomach as he gaze upon the strangers, the white shroud that was like a bride's concealing her suspicious eye. "Link… who are these men?" Her hand reached inside her sleeve, where a dagger was safely concealed in case the situation called for it.

" _Fraulein_ Rosalina," Ness sneered as he bowed flamboyantly, "thank you for your time. And as for you, kid…" He turned towards the child on the well, a sinister grin creeping into his expression. "Thanks for the _help_!"

Before Rosalina could even react, before she could even utter a word, the man in the red hat outstretched his hand and shoved Link aside and into the well.

" _LINK!"_ She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, shoving the two men out of the way, and leaned into the well with an outstretched hand in hopes of grabbing him, but it was too late. His echoing screams traveled farther and farther away as the darkness of the well consumed his form. Rosalina felt her very heart rise to her throat as an audible _thump_ from something colliding with the bottom of the well made her jump and her eyes widen in horror.

She wasn't even spared a moment to process what was happening before the larger man with wings grabbed her arms and pulled her away from the well.

"Rosalina von Sterne, Witch of the Forest, we are here under the orders of the Agency of the land and the Goddesses to apprehend you for your heretic actions!" Ness accused, pointing a bony finger in her direction. "At high noon of the next week, you will be tried for your crimes against the Holy Goddesses!"

"You…" she muttered, her face obscured by the white veil that seemed to glow in the atmosphere of the twilight. "You _BASTARDS!_ " She retracted her hidden dagger and sliced the greasy arm of the angel man, freeing herself from his grasp. The man dropped the bread from his mouth as he screamed in agony, clutching his bloody arm.

A newfound fire in her eye, she pointed the bloody dagger at Ness. "I may fall today," she spat, "but you've killed my son, so your head will remain severed from your body for all eternity!" With a cry, she threw her entire body at him, the knife aimed for his heart. The coward screamed in fright and rolled out of the way of her terror. Realizing that she missed, she chased him with the dagger in a slothful movement, wild and uncontrollable, unable to see straight from the hot tears clouding her vision.

Ness screamed again as he narrowly dodge a shank to the stomach. "W-Wait! Wait wait wait! Lemme explain myself-!" He screamed again as she missed his eye.

She could not allow him to stop. She couldn't allow herself to stop. All she felt was anger, and all she saw was red, Link and his smiling, beautiful face, his golden threaded hair, his bubbling laughter, his terror-filled eyes as he fell into darkness, his screams echoing throughout her mind.

She paid no mind to Angel, who was on his knees, clutching his arm and mourning the fallen bread. A quiet anger filled his thoughts, and while Rosalina was distracted, he grabbed the bucket hooked to the wells post and slammed it across her head while she was turned away.

She released a quiet grunt as she collided with the hard dirt, and as the world faded away to black, the image of Link burned behind her teary eyes.

* * *

As the faint echo of a child's scream drifted from the bottom of the well, the doll laughed to herself. "Humans are so troublesome. We need to punish them, don't we?"

"That we do, my dear, that we do." The man in black finished braiding the doll's ashen blonde hair. "It's about time we start this play of revenge, yes?"


	2. Within this Birdcage

The forest was cold and bleak the night that Impa and her mistress robbed the small grave.

Her muscles, worn from her many years of servitude, strangely ached at the steady rhythm of her actions, the fresh dirt continuously shifting, moving, piling, shifting, crumbling, over and over. The shovel proceeded to pierce the earth once more, its contents continuing to scatter and smudge the beautiful features of her mistress, who was knelt by the grave's side, constantly looking over her shoulder with her stricken, terrified face.

"Hurry, you must hurry!" she begged, scratching at the soil. "Dig faster!"

"Understood," Impa grunted, and she did just that.

When the shovel had finally hit the small coffin, her muscles felt to be on fire. Impa's mistress quickly jumped into the hole, brushing away the remnants of the earth away from the wooden surface. Impa was quick to use her spare jimmy to pry open its hood, where a small, grey bundle rested inside a bed of velvet and dead flowers. Her mistress carefully picked up the bundle, restraining a choked sob and she stroked it. The bundle was so small, so fragile, a delicate existence.

"Quickly, my lady," Impa ushered, helping her mistress out of the hole. She had begun to sob, never removing her eyes from the bundle in her arms. It was a pathetic thing, and Impa's heart shattered at the sight.

 _This is what we're trying to fix,_ she thought to herself. _Goddesses, please tell me that this is the right thing to do._

Impa quickly grabbed the ropes of her horse nearby, helping her mistress onto its saddle. When she had also gotten onto the horse, she snapped the reins with all her might, and they darted over the gates of the small graveyard and into the forest beyond.

Her mistress saw the faint glow of lanterns behind them. "Impa, please hurry!"

"Understood, my lady." She snapped the reins again, urging the horse to go faster.

The rode off into the night.

* * *

As the full moon graced the dark forest in an ethereal light every evening, Zelda von Heilig prayed to the Goddesses for a friend. She begged that in the confines of her room where she always remained, longfully looking up at the moonlit sky, that someone, even an angel or a messenger, would descend down from the heavens, riding on the rays of the moonlight, onto her windowsill to the rest of the world and provide her actual company, for once, besides her sweet, kind, strong Impa. With all her heart, she prayed that she could escape this birdcage, and let her wings flap free in the night sky.

She never really expected her wish to come true, though. At least, until she saw the boy on the windowsill one night.

He was illuminated by the full moon, just as she had hoped for. His golden hair was glinting before the cold white of it, and he had long, slender ears just as she had. His eyes were the most mysterious part, as they almost glowed in the dark in a serene, kind blue that seemed to reflect the very stars that were nestled outside in the night sky.

She was without words, and the sudden feeling sunk in, and Zelda wondered to herself if she even knew what loneliness was before she met this boy.

"Who are you?" she finally asked, her voice light as air.

"Link," he simply stated. He returned her question.

"Zelda," she responded. "Are you an angel?"

"No." He returned her question once more.

She laughed, possibly for the first time in a long while. "I'm just a girl. Just as you are a boy, right?"

"Right." He pouted his rosy lips. "You sure you aren't and angel, though? You look just like one, just how my _mutti_ described it." He gestured to the pool of cream and lavender lace that she was surrounded in.

"I promise I'm not." Her hands reached for her dress, stroking away the folds.

"If you're not, then what are you doing in here?" His eyes, blue and warming, gazed around her simple confines before returning to her.

"Impa says that I have to stay here."

"Why do you have to stay in here?"

"Because she said so."

The angel ― Link was his name ― briefly turned his head towards the woods. "May I come in?" he asked.

Zelda hesitated at first. What would Impa think, letting in a complete stranger into her private quarters? Worse, what would her _brother_ think? Surely it was something illegal, something that has to do with her purity or some other thing that she couldn't remember. She couldn't remember a lot of things when she looked at Link, though.

"You may," she finally said. "But you must be quiet."

He smiled, silently stepping down from her windowsill and sitting crosslegged in front of her. They looked at each other for a long time, both afraid of what to say or do.

"Why are you in here?" He asks again.

"I told you, Impa says so."

"Yes, but _why_ does she say so?"

"Because..." She wasn't sure how to answer. "Because my brother tells her to."

"Your brother?"

"Yes." The very thought of him causes the young girl to shudder, chills coursing through her small frame. "He may be my brother… but I don't like him. He's very scary and big." She widens her arms to emphasize her point. "He's probably _this_ big, maybe bigger."

"Woahhh."

"He's really weird, too. He insists that I call him 'Father.'"

"Why does he do that?"

"I don't know. But he punishes me if I don't."

Link places his chin in his hand and leaned on his side, blowing a stray hair out of his eyesight. "That's not nice."

Zelda quietly hums in agreement, casting her eyes to the side. "He doesn't see me often, but when he does…. I get scared."

Link has not removed his sight on her. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright."

The room grows silent again. A owl sings its song to the forest.

"Why does he keep you in here?" Link finally speaks up.

"I don't know… but I've been here for as long as I can remember."

"But… doesn't it get lonely?"

She pauses. "... Yes."

"And you don't have any friends?"

She pauses again. "... No."

Link stares at her again, unblinking, for the longest time. He finally stands up, brushing off his knickers. "I don't have any friends, either." He stretches his hand towards her. It is covered in grime and cuts, and Zelda wonders how hard it was to climb to her room. "I can be your friend, though. Will you be mine?"

When Zelda takes his hand, she wonders if this was all a dream, and that none of this would happen if she were to sleep and wake up in the morning tomorrow.

* * *

The next night, Link returns, and she knows it wasn't a dream.

* * *

He returns again. She asks, and he finally explains how he found her, that he was travelling with his _mutti_ through the woods, and found the mysterious mansion, and saw a girl his age looking out the window on the second floor, and how sad she looked.

Zelda hugs him this time when they say goodbye.

* * *

Another night. Link talks about his _mutti_ , and how she helps other people through herbs and homemade medicine, and how the two of them had to move a lot. Zelda describes her own mother, or what she could remember of her based on what Impa had told her.

* * *

One night, he brings her a flower he found in the woods. She's never actually seen one before in real life, only from the pictures in her storybooks, and the lily white petals are the softest things she's ever felt. It smells divine, too, just as she imagined it but better.

He promises to bring a lot more flowers next time.

* * *

He does just that. Zelda almost screamed when she found a bug in the foliage.

* * *

One night, Link says he wants to take her to the woods. There's a meadow in the center filled with lots of flowers, of different shapes and colors.

Her heart skips a beat. She wants to, she so _desperately_ wants to. And the woods are right there, right outside her reach beyond her windowsill, and Link could be with her right there, but all she could see was her brother and his cruel, cold, callous hand.

Link takes her hand into his own. His voice is calming, and his eyes speak earnestly.

"It's alright. I promise I won't let anything happen to you."

They plan for them to travel during the next night.

* * *

When he reaches for her hand again, he is at the windowsill, the moon beckoning to the young girl.

Her heart feels like it's stuck in her throat, and she can barely breathe as she clutches her porcelain doll that bears her face, but she is so _excited_. She turns to her room one last time, the barren confinements she has called home, and turns to Link, her angel in every sense of the word, and the heavenly light that he basks in, and in the young life of Zelda she takes a chance and grabs his hand.

She exits her birdcage, and for the first time in Zelda von Heilig's life, the world around her explodes in color and light and scents and it is _beautiful_.

It was a bit of a struggle to get down from the second floor ledge, and Link asks if it's alright to bring along her doll, the one that resembles her face and hair so much, but she insists. Eventually, he gets down first and opens his arms to her, asking her to jump. She hesitates again, but Goddesses, she was already so far and it would be a shame to turn back now. She lets the fresh air hiss through her nostrils, and she jumps. He catches her, and she is surprised how strong he was for a small boy, and how light she had become. She feels the dirt below her crumple and shift under her weight, and she's tempted to kick off her slippers right here and play in the mud. She'll save it for later, though. The woods are right there, just within arm's reach, and there isn't a moment to lose.

Link smiles and takes her hand again. She returns the gesture, hugging her doll close to her chest because she feels like her heart is going to burst. The two are like school children, off on an adventure like in the fairy tales she has read, and they enter the forest.

Every sight is a new experience for her. The moon reaching its fingers through the balcony of trees, the dust and bugs that float through the air, and the _colors_. Everything was bathed in moonlight, and it was just like a painting. She was living through it.

And the stars. Oh, how wonderful the stars were. They were like jewels encrusted into the blanket of the sky, sparkling and shining in their brightest way just for her.

Link knew the forest well, even without a lantern, and had answered all of Zelda's curious questions, like what the calls of the animals in the trees meant, or what kind of flower was nestling next to a bush. He made sure not to get her dress too dirty, and took the most careful path, but Zelda swore that she would climb those moss-covered rocks and the rotting, fallen trunks another time. She had a taste of this freedom, and even though she still fears her brother, she will never let this feeling in her chest go.

They finally arrive after some time, with the curtain of trees thinning into a clearing and the full moon gracing the skies once more, directly above them and smiling down at the children. There's grass outstretched, and in the center was a vast meadow, filled with every kind of flower Zelda could imagine and so much more. Their colors were vibrant even under the dark shadow of night, and they beckoned to her intoxicatingly, calling to her and wishing for her to be by their side.

Link runs forward to the meadow, a bewildered Zelda following close behind, before picking a bundle of dandelions that stood proudly before the meadow.

"Watch this," he tells her, and cautions her to stand back. She does so and watches in anticipation. Link kneels before the patch of meadow, as a peasant were to ask forgiveness from the Goddesses, and blows gently onto the dandelions, scattering their fibers with his wind. They glide through the flowers carefully, and as if some miracle of the Goddesses had rained down on these children that night, areas of the petals begin to glow an unearthly moss yellow. The balls of light floated towards the sky, and more and more of them appeared throughout the meadow until the entire clearing was illuminated in their million lights.

Link turns to Zelda again, a content smile on his soft face. "They're fireflies," he says.

It's only until Link points it out with worry when she notices the wetness that has begun streaming down her cheeks. He asks her why she is crying. She responds quietly that she doesn't know.

They sit and watch the fireflies for a while in the flowers.

* * *

Link visits Zelda's room almost every night, but they make it a habit to venture out into the woods once a week, whether it be to the meadows once more or another, entirely new area for an adventure. He even begins to bring her snacks, cooked fresh from his _mutti_.

She asks him one time why he does this, what she had done to deserve such kindness from him. He smiles at her with his beautiful blue eyes and says that everyone deserves happiness sometime in their lives. Even her. Even him.

* * *

One of the nights, he comes far earlier in the evening than normal and tells her that his _mutti_ wants to meet Zelda and cook her dinner. She is frightened, since almost all the adults in her life terrify her, but she trusts Link and obliges.

The trek through the woods is much farther than normal, and she wonders to herself how far Link had to venture every visit to meet her. He pays no mind to it, however, but gives her a dark cloak to keep her warm. It was likely more than an hour, the last remnants of twilight long since faded away and the moon just shy of gracing over the world, that they reach a village with very few inhabitants. In fact, it looked almost completely abandoned. There was far more dirt than she expected, and the houses were made of mud and sticks rather than the pristine stone and plaster walls she was accustomed to at her home. Animals of all sorts were fenced in with wood, and there was an odor resonating throughout that Zelda cared not to think about. She thinks about the dress she wears with lilac and lace, and she feels dreadfully out of place.

As the approach a hut with a lit torch beside its doorstep, a woman clothed in turquoise waits for them. She wears a white veil over her face like a bride, and while it obscures part of her expression, there was an immediate familiarity to her strikingly blue eyes and long, golden hair. Link runs to her, enveloping his little arms around the woman in a hug, and the woman returns the gesture before gazing upon the other guest.

"So you must be the girl my little Link talks about," she cooes, and while Zelda is tentative to step forward, there is an undeniable air of nurture and warmth that the woman carries that brings the girl's guard down. "I am Rosalina von Sterne, Link's mother. Thank you for taking care of him." She gestures to the door of the rickety old hut, where Zelda can see a pillar of smoke rise from the chimney with a homely waft of meal. "Come. I've prepared Link's favorite meal for the occasion: pumpkin soup! I hope you enjoy it as much as he does."

Zelda thanks her lucky stars for her small meal previously, because the delicious scent of soup that filled the entire inside of the simple, poor house made her mouth water in anticipation. They sit at the crooked wooden table before the fireplace and eat one of the most delicious soups she has ever had, better than anything her servants could serve her. _Frau_ Rosalina was kind with open ears as they chat, occasionally placing delicate kisses on Link's cheeks during conversation. Zelda discovers that the woman was some sort of wise woman residing in the woods, an expert of herbs and medicine, and has traveled throughout the country, healing people and curing various illnesses. A strange sort of emotion glazes over _Frau_ Rosalina's visible eye when she speaks about it, how it is a thankless job, but she is happy to do some sort of good in the world, and expresses her hope for Link to be as good. They return to the joyous dinner, filled with laughs and smiles. Link is the happiest Zelda has ever seen him.

With the moon well into the night sky, she is ready to return to her home, but _Frau_ Rosalina leans down to the young girl and whispers in her ear before bidding the children a safe travel:

"Remember, do not tell anyone about this place, or that we reside here. It's a secret to everyone. I hope you can do this much for Link and I."

* * *

The nights continue like this and are filled with happy memories that would have lasted her a lifetime. She expected this to last forever, but she should have expected otherwise. After all, all good things must eventually end, and no matter how happy an encounter is, there will always be a departure.

This is what she thinks when Link visits her at the end of the day at her windowsill, wearing a expression of sadness and regret in the setting sun, and tells her that he and his _mutti_ have to move away.

"Why…" she asks quietly. She can't cease the trembling in her voice.

"The things she does…" He steps down from the windowsill and takes her hands into his. "They help people, but they're also scared of her because of it. That's what she told me." He locks eyes with hers. "We were supposed to leave today, but _Mutti_ let me see you before we left. I had to see you before we left."

Her hands shake, even in the grasp of his own, even when he strokes her hands with his small fingers to try to calm her.

 _But I didn't tell anyone. I promised._

"If you're going to leave…" she breaks away and gravitates towards her bed, where the porcelain doll that bears her face rests and stares into empty space. There was no way she could leave, not with Impa and her brother here. They would find her if she left, and she wasn't even sure what would happen to her after, but she could only imagine.

She picks up the doll like a newborn babe and returns to Link, tears threatening to spill over with every passing second. Even if she had to break her heart in two and give a half away, she'd never want to leave him. She wanted to be by his side forever, even if she had to wait a few years for him.

"Please," she choked as she held the doll towards him, "take this with you in my place."

His own heart shattered in two as well, he takes the doll into his own hands, nodding, knowingly, understandably, like no one else could. "Promise you'll come back for me one day," she continues, "okay?"

He nods again, tears brimming his own eyes, clutching the doll as if it were his own child. "When I'm all grown up, I'll come back to take you away from here, and I'll marry you! It's a promise!"

Just like a knight from a fairytale. She wraps her arms around him and plants a slow, deep kiss on his cheek as the sun sets behind them.

* * *

The days fly by. Nights turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, and soon, Zelda gets a little bit older before she hears the news about the witch burning. How Rosalina von Sterne, the alleged Witch of the Forest, was burned at the stake for her heretic crimes against the Goddesses, and how her young son had fallen into a well and perished upon her capture.

She doesn't cry for him. Instead, she waits at the windowsill.

* * *

She thinks about him every day, but the beautiful, pale woman named Zelda von Heilig only acknowledges and reflects on her thoughts on few occasions. As she stands before her window, a pillar of melancholy and solidarity, gazing upon the full moon with her little strip of the outside, she allows it to be one of these times.

The beautiful angel that gave her wings in her youth, that allowed her to fly, if only briefly, away from the birdcage that she resides in to this day. She humored herself: he was a pretty little thing back then, but she imagined how handsome he would have been now, all grown up. If only she could see it outside of the confines of her mind. If only he could see her now, a young woman, fair as the moon and beautiful as the sunset. Even if she was trapped in her room, she grew into her body well, with long, graceful features and fine, chestnut hair. Only her eyes remained droopy, her grey irises reflecting a deep sorrow that others mistook for indifference. Yes, perhaps he would've been the one to appreciate her, instead of proudly boasting her as a trophy like the many suitors her father had presented to her.

She wish she could go back in time somehow, perhaps to warn him, or to go with him instead of remaining in her prison. If nothing else, she wish she could tell her younger, ignorant self, the name of the burning feeling in her heart whenever she looked upon him or squeezed his hand. The heat in her chest continues to curse her even still.

Even if he was long gone, dead at the bottom of a well, and there wasn't ever a chance to see his beautiful face again, she would still wait for him under the moonlight by her windowsill.

Yes, the boy that gave her flight, she still loved him with all her being, and she would never love another.

The door creaks open. Impa, old and weary, steps into the room. "Come now," she beckons, "your father is waiting for you."

Zelda looks up at the moon one last time, then turns towards the older woman, her footsteps slow and deliberate as she exits the room. The door shuts behind her.

* * *

 ** _AN: The live performance of Marchen was taken down because of copyright :((((( you have to trust me on the story now kids_**

 ** _As children, Link is eight years old, while Zelda is barely seven. As a young woman, Zelda is just shy of twenty, and Link would've been twenty-one._**


	3. The Reason She Became a Witch

_"Why do you do this? Why do you not accept your child as a legitimate heir to your lineage? He only deserves as much!"_

 _The man cast in shadow grimaces, the faint light only reflecting in bits on the golden lining of his sleeves. "Again with this. I had stated we were done with this subject."_

 _The woman, bathed in ragged silk and satin the color of ocean and wild golden hair, remains permissive on her knees, but her voice towers above any man. "Is it because I am only a mere concubine?" She holds the bundle in her arms out to him, wails echoing through the passage. "Is it because he's impaired?"_

 _"You speak too much, Rosemarie," The man sighs. As the woman's grovelling continues, he only gets more and more agitated. Not that she payed any mind._

 _"Do not cast this blame on him, cast it on me! Let me suffer for this bastard child! Just please, treat him with what he needs! What he deserves!"_

 _"Rosemarie…!"_

 _"All of this… this is all my fault," Rosemarie sobs, finally releasing her emotions into tears as she gazes upon the wailing bundle. "I'm sorry, my child…! This is my fault that you were born this way!"_

 _"_ I said you speak too much, Rosemarie! _" He extends his hand and strikes her with the back of his palm. She topples to the cold, stone floor with a cry, and the wailing from the bundle only begins to scream louder._

 _"I should've known," he continues, "that you would've caused this much trouble. I should've known not to let you get this close, to control my urges…" His eyes glint in the faint moonlight from above; a terrible, harsh cast with no remorse or love. "But perhaps you tricked me. Perhaps you are a witch like the others say." With a flare of his cape, he turns and struts away, leaving the girl a crumpled mess on the floor._

 _Rosemarie only sobs, gazing onto the face between the folds of the bundle. She shares a whisper only a son and his mother could hear:_

 _"You're a cruel man… you really are a_ snake _…"_

* * *

A quiet sneeze from her side interrupts Rosalina von Sterne's trailing thoughts.

"Link? Are you cold?" She kneels to his tiny height, setting aside her basket of herbs onto the snow. It was the prime of winter in the forest, and Her cold winds nipped at the boy's nose, leaving it noticeably red.

While his eyes lacked any sort of light, Link was always expressive, and Rosalina could tell what he was thinking. He currently looks ashamed. "Mm," he quietly nods, with his blank eyes that never quite looked directly at her.

She smiles. Discarding the cowl around her shoulders, Rosaline wraps it around the boy's small body. "I'm sorry, my child. I'll make sure to finish early today. Will you be patient for a few more moments so that I can finish my current task?"

He nods with a grin. She pats him on the head before he leaves to sit by a large oak. Rarely does Link need his mother's assistance to travel, since his hearing far compensates for other things and can hear every inch of the forest, but she'd rather they stay together. After all, she must always fill the role of the doting, careful mother she is.

Rosalina returns to her basket of herbs, and the dreadful thoughts of that pathetic, crying woman return to her.

"Rosemarie," she whispers, where not even her son can hear her, "Both a mother and a sister, a sinner but a restitutor, I painfully understand how you feel… yet, I will never forgive you."

* * *

Link is only a babe, barely a few months old, when Rosalina flees to the forest and begins working with medicinal herbs. She is young and inexperienced as well, but the world wasn't kind to mothers who had children without marriage, that much she is sure of, so she has to take matters into her own hands.

She lives nomadically in desolate villages at first, barely a scrap to anyone's name, and heals the sick that could not otherwise afford a doctor. She had always had a knack for tarot and constellations, so she also begins fortune telling. The jobs start small, but as her notoriety increases, so do her tasks. She first begins with simple wellness blends, then goes on to potions, prophecies, serving as a midwife to babies and mothers that would have otherwise perished, to finally curing the incurable.

She saves lives as a way of repentance, she always reminds herself, yet she has stopped praying to the Goddesses long ago. Coupled with her miracle working, it isn't long until the church begins to question her work. Accusing her of magic and witchcraft. Calling her a heretic.

So she plans to leave to the forest with Link. She grew up in those woods, and knows every path, every nook and cranny of it. She could easily find a home with it.

Rosalina does find a home, eventually, but it is one she doesn't expect. She finds a deserted village in the middle of the forest, long since abandoned with the distant smell of decaying corpses hanging in the air. What was most interesting, however, was the well that stood in the center of the village. It seemed like any other well at first glance, a light layer of moss creeping around its brim, but something felt… off about it. A scent, different from the one hovering about the huts, wafted from its depths that made Rosalina's nose sting, and an unfamiliarity surrounded it like a cloak. There was something very old and mysterious about this well, she could sense it as much, yet… she was drawn to it.

As if it were calling out to her.

So she stays.

* * *

The fame of the Priestess of the Stars only grew, and though she was hidden away, if one were to hear the right whispers, it could lead them to the right place. Her work continued still. She made so many people happy.

Truly it was a fateful circumstance that she received a guest in the middle of the night.

Without a doubt, the woman and servant on her doorstep came from a noble lineage. She is beautiful and pale, her dark gold hair gleaming in the moonlight, even in her currently disheveled state. Her eyes are rosy and puffy from the tears she wept, and the horrors she had experienced. She clutches a bundle in her arms, holding it and cradling it for dear life.

With the solemn state the tall servant is in and the anguished babbles of the woman, it is all but clear what the issue was. Rosalina thinks of Link back in his room, tucked away from horrors such as this. He would be close to his second year, now. Oh, how she couldn't bear the thought of the same thing as this woman had experienced happening to her own child.

"I know she's alive! I just know it!" the woman cries, grovelling on her knees before the Priestess. "She has to be! Because she was alive and energetic just days ago!" She continuously looks back at the bundle in her arms, only seeing a frozen, drained face that was void of any life she claimed to have. "Ah… she's supposed to grow up into a real beauty… she's _my_ daughter, of course!" A pitiful giggle, coming out more like a gurgle, escaped her throat in the midst of her hallucinations. "She'll need a paper fab to swat away all the noblemen that'll cling to her feet when she's older!"

She snaps back to reality, clinging to the shimmery turquoise fabric of Rosalina's skirt. "Please, I just want her to live! I just want her to smile again! Goddesses, if only she'll smile again…!"

Her misery takes the best of her, leaving her only as a pile of mournful sobs. The servant rushes to her side and pries her off of Rosalina's robes. "Please, milady, pull yourself together!" she begs, just as desperate as the noblewoman but containing herself better. She peers up at Rosalina, her eyes twinkling with a strange hope. "Let's believe in the power of the Priestess of the Stars."

Before she could worry, before she could even begin to tell them that she had no idea how to fix this, a pungent odor overwhelms Rosalina. Her vision fogs, and for but a brief moment she wasn't in the confines of her shambly home. Rather, somewhere deep, dark, wet, and entirely violet. And in a blink she's back, looming over the pathetic noblewoman.

The odor is very strong, and something whispers in her ear in a dark, garbled voice in a language she somehow understands:

" _ **Grab mich aus."**_

Rosalina knows exactly what to do.

"Are you willing to do whatever it takes to save your child?"

The woman does not fear to hesitate. "Yes! Anything!"

There is a gleam in Rosalina's eye, something far more ancient and powerful than she has known. Karma was a funny thing.

* * *

The smell continues to haunt her even when she leaves the deserted village for a time. Rosalina and her child retreat to other parts of the forest periodically, whether it is for work or to temporarily flee from the church, but she always returns to that village. Always to the well.

It speaks to her when she is alone at night.

" _ **Horst du mich, du stehent?"**_ it whispers in her ear. She learns not to respond to it, to control herself and to not give into the temptation.

" _ **Ah ... ja, du, der die Welt in Reue heilt. Doch kein Mensch kann so viel Kraft haben."**_ It pauses, waiting for her response. She will not give in. " _ **Ja, nicht einmal die große Priesterin der Sterne kann alle Wunder verwirklichen. Du kannst die Vision deines Sohnes nicht heilen."**_

 _That_ caught her attention. Anything involving her son was important. The damn bastard of a voice knew it too. Could it be possibly offering…?

" _ **Aber mit meiner Macht, können Sie."**_

Her facade shattered.

" _ **Dann kann mir du glauben… GRAB MICH AUS!"**_

* * *

Her son, innocent and pure, had a favorite phrase he always spoke. In the dead of winter, he'd embrace Rosalina by the fire, filled with love that no other person could ever achieve.

" _Mutti_ ," he would sing, "light is really warm!"

So on that day, when that miracle happened, he looks at her radiantly, his crystal blue eyes finally brimming with life, looking at her directly.

" _Mutti_ , the light! It's really warm!"

A pungent odor radiates off of him.

* * *

 _But was that fortunate for him?_ She thinks to herself. Even now, tied to a pole on a pile of wood that is to be set aflame for her crimes, she could not decide.

Two children caught her eye in the crowd gathered before her in the city. Their innocence was charming, a ray of light in this hopeless situation. Just like Link. Just like her dead son.

"The Witch of the Forest sure is scary looking..." the younger girl whispers, yet Rosalina is able to hear her, like a jape of the Goddesses.

"Yeah," the older brother replies, a smirk growing on his face. "So if you don't behave… she'll come and _eat you!_ " He jumps at the sister, scaring her, and any hope Rosalina held onto dropped and shattered, like a glass slipper discarded on the side of the road.

The children's laughter, the murmurs of the crowd garbling together, and the priest's spats toward her heresy in harsh, unforgiving rhetoric, all combine into an unintelligible buzz. All she could think about was her precious Link, held in winter's embrace, beloved and pure. The world didn't deserve someone like him.

"We repay the faithful with blessings," the priest calls to the audience. Link smiles warmly in her mind. "We repay heretics like this witch with _fire_!" Dancing through the forest with that sweet girl, his laughter echos. "Join me, my brethren, for today, we deliver the witch an iron hammer of punishment!" The crowd rallies in response, calling out for that iron hammer. They want blood. They want fire. They want her to _burn._

All she wanted was for Link to be happy. To smile in the warm light of spring. That was his mother's only wish. _Was it too much to ask?_

" _Was is too much to ask for?"_ she speaks as they start the fire. The odor that forever haunts her wafts in the air. The cries and jeers of the people Ah, perhaps the Goddesses viewed her life as a great comedy, taking away the only light in her life for laughs. She could feel herself slipping away, giving into the madness, and she didn't care. "What a fantastic show! All of us are played for fools, and I am the greatest act of them all!

" _You want me to be a witch?!"_ She addresses the audience, her strained, maddening voice riding above the cacophony and growing flames. " _Fine! I'll become a witch! I'll become a witch and_ _ **eternally curse this world!**_ "

Her laughter starts quiet as the fire all but envelopes her. Then it progresses, louder and louder, as the world burns around her, the words of the holy flaming the insanity, the tears of madness streaking her face, burning into her, her soul on fire, the _world was on fire_ and _Goddesses that odor was all she felt_ —

Rosalina von Sterne's screams rise with the smoke into the amber sky.

* * *

 _Und die Komedie wird sich wiederholen._


	4. The Song of Dusk

_Und die Komedie wird sich wiederholen._

* * *

[ _sieben_ ]

Everything is hot. Oh, so hot. And cold all at the same time. Empty, but full. Spacious, yet confining, suffocating. A tundra, yet the space is lit with the flames named reprimand. Dark and bottomless, yet blinding. Dead, yet alive all the same.

[ _sechs_ ]

There are two things that are constant: the horrible, pungent odor that somehow fills her forgotten senses, and the flare of hatred that burns her heart to ashes, crying out for revenge.

[ _fuenf_ ]

It moves her, without her command. The odor whispers to her, beckoning down a path that she did not know. She follows, like a phantom, led only by the growing, searing fire in her soul, her heart, her mind, filled with starvation, disease, war, and slaughter.

[ _vier_ ]

The cries of the dead and damned follow her in her wake, singing and moaning the wills of the demons of hell. Her their mistress, their goddess, their savior that would bring their revenge. She is on a mission. Something inside that commands her. Something she was born to do.

[ _drei_ ]

It isn't long until she found it, the empty light, at the bottom of the well, tightly held by youthful Death. It's porcelain face was cracked from impact, and once, a long time ago, it was made with love of the purest kind, kissed by the tears and lust of a young, caged girl. The songs of the damned only rise.

Somehow she touches it. It would do. It would do.

[ _zwei_ ]

It would spread into the world like the Black Death, like hatred and Id was born to do. Her soul is hollowed and wreathing. The trumpets blare, the violins scream, and the song of the dead fills the forest from the well.

[ _eins_ ]

She finds her voice. Once maternal and loving like of a mother against the world, it is now childlike, mechanical and fake, singing of pure malice and revenge:

"Link, even if we both fall into the abyssal hell together, _I'll still love you_."

* * *

Link is dead. That much is certain. The only thing that seems to be certain is that fact.

Alone, cold, floating in a dark, he can barely recall his own name, let alone any memories he once beared. Perhaps, a porcelain hand clings to his own, but he can't recall. All that existed was the black.

The cold.

The fate that he'll be here forever.

But then a twisted voice whispers in his ear.

" _ **Ich wollte hier nicht sterben.."**_ He agrees. Somehow. He is unable to find his voice, just to stare empty and dead into the void. " _ **Junge, ich kann das gleiche von dir sagen, nicht wahr?**_ "

His voice, hoarse and dry, cracks through the dark. "Yes…" he whispers coarsely.

" _ **Hast du nicht noch etwas zu tun auf Erden?"**_

"Yes…!" He doesn't want to die. Not when he only had begun to see the world in its true beauty, not when somewhere, someone is waiting for him. Perhaps.

" _ **Die Zeit ist reif."**_ Fingers, or tendrils, that he is unable to see graze his arms and chest, colder than the harsh winters of the forest and pulsing with sick energy. Slowly, he is beginning to be enveloped, and he can barely breathe.

" _ **Komm, Junge, nimm mich in dich!"**_

Something pierces through him, and he is swallowed whole by the darkness and the shrieks of pain he emits.

Pain is all he knows about now. A pain worse than he has ever experienced. Through it all, he feels his limbs stretched, his shoulders and face widened, his skin paling and his hair staining a putrid, inky black. He hears his own voice, once a rich soprano, morph into a deep tenor befitting someone ten years his senior.

No longer in the body he is familiar with, his consciousness slips, the agony too much for him to handle.

" _ **Zwei Flammen innen zu tragen, sogar die Dame über dort wacht bald auf!"**_ the voice calls inside of him. He gives into the darkness, and the boy named Link, son of the Witch of the Forest, no longer exists.

* * *

He awakens in the abyss, his mind and memories a blank page waiting to be stained black.

Just… who is he?

His foot is submerged in muddy water. The sticky stone walls he leaned against stains his clothes. Water drips and echoes throughout the circular chamber. Was this… a well?

"The bottom of the well," a small, mechanical voice answers with glee.

He looks to his side, and there rests a tiny girl, a _Maedchen_ , lovely and flawless and draped in reds. She is tiny, nestled comfortably in the crook of his arm, but her skin is pale and reflective, and at a closer look he realizes that is it made of porcelain, literally. Her pale, ashen blond hair is braided and adorned with jewels and feathers, and her face is smiling eerily. She is lovely, just as any doll should be.

"I love you, my Link," she cooed, smirking from ear to ear. "Now we can finally be together forever!"

He looks towards the puddle his foot resides in and sees a reflection he does not quite recognize. His pinstripe suit is well tailored, dyed in black and intergrated with red detains and silver buttons and chains. His skin is pale and sullen, his hair an inky, murky black that is spiky and messy. Peeking behind his bangs are sunken, baggy eyes the color of blood, and it almost seemed to glow in the pale moonlight from above.

Everything is so foreign, yet so familiar at the same time. He looks to the _Maedchen_ in his arms again, and the way she spoke to him with soothing words was…

Ah, of course. How could he forget his dear Sheik and the revenge they seek out?

"Let's get our revenge, shall we?" she whispers, and even if he cannot remember why he needed his revenge or what his own name was, he is driven by his impulse and knows what he must do. With a sinister smile, he stands, and recognizing the magic pulsing through his veins, wills the winds and the earth to rise him through the well. He and Sheik reach the open sky and forest, and spill out of the old well like a plague on the earth. It is night, the last remnants of twilight grazing its fingers through the canopies of the wood. The sky is void of any stars, the only source of light in the area being the unnaturally sized moon looming over the land. No torches are lit, no huts are occupied in this abandoned village. It is empty, yet every malicious, damned spirit in the world congregates as one this night, calling and crying and shrieking for a revenge.

He extends a hand to his sleeve and pulls out a baton of odd sorts, white as bone and the wind its hair. At the old steeple facing the well, he sits Sheik down on the steps, and stands before the invisible, restless spirits, his arm positioned to conduct. "It's about time," he calls in a fake, mechanical voice like his beloved, "for the curtain to rise on this great comedy and the _Schauspielerinnen_ to finally appear." His arms raise with a dramatic flare. "I welcome the seven dead princesses to the stage!"

Reality twists and warps, where the forest is no longer quiet and mysterious, but made with the very fabric of horror and whimsicality. The damned take form and dance and sing in chaos like some opening number, screaming of murder, death, starvation, greed, and all the other formulas that mark their death. The twisted roots dance along to the music, a cacophony of instruments that tell the horrors and darkness of the world. But in the center of it all lie seven young women, hoisted up and presented in their deaths in the most beautiful, tragic, comedic way. One woman with snow white hair and pointed, demonic ears remains pinned to a mural of an evil god by an axe to her stomach, while another tall, green woman hangs by her neck from a rope leading to nowhere. Another sleeps in a glass coffin, while another sleeps in a bed of blue roses, and another hands from her hands covered in chains. One girl remains floating in the well itself, and the last to the side is tied to a sculpture of the Goddesses' emblem and gift to the world like a beautiful, mournful statue of lavender. All of them wear masks made of red and black feathers that obstructed their features and any expression of pain or peace or whatever they felt at the time of their deaths. Beautiful, certainly! The absolute bearers of art and revenge!

He's already dead, he knows this. It is too late for him to do anything about it. But these fresh corpses still have a chance at revenge, and it is only destiny for them to meet and for him to assist them in their endeavors. He knows this. They know this.

He addresses the princesses as one.

"Dear _fraulein_ , it really is fate that we meet at these crossroads on your journeys through the night. You all died before it was right for you, right? Then it is only natural for you to weave your sins together, of yourselves, of your killers, of the very sins that take your life tonight! Let's weave them together into one great play of revenge!" He flicks his wrist to conduct the baton. "Now… sing for me."

Each corpse opens their small mouths and out pours a beautiful, haunting melody, their voices blending together in perfect harmony:

" _Kom… Kom… Die Nacht Kom… Das Sieben M_ _ärchen… la la la…"_

The damned dance in unison as the princesses sing for them, of the coming storm and the coming theatrics. He happily conducts them all along, but a twinge of something infiltrates the back of his mind. It grew until he wonders… didn't he love someone before? Even as the flames of revenge dance throughout the twisted forest, the thought won't leave him alone. Somewhere, he feels that someone loved him, too—

 _ **Ah, but surely that is (**_ isn't, one single voice sings out _ **) surely just your imagination.**_

And that ends the thought.

Even Sheik joins along in the chorus, singing along her own words, of how she is with her beloved, how she is a doll of murderous intent, in the well that led to the forest, in the forest that led into the well, back and forth, back and forth—

Two voices call out at once. The ones who took [her] light, the ones that cause the crimson flames of despair and hatred, for them to live on without judgement was unforgivable, right?

The melodies of the night fly to the east with intent of most vile nature. Together, apart, none of it made sense, yet it was clear as the moon above. He extends his own wings towards the chaos to lead them all into the dark, even the women with their haunting melodies, so that finally, they can all be set free.

Or, perhaps not. Revenge is a sin, after all!

Sheik is by his side again, giggling like a child. "I love you, my Link! Let's stay together forever and ever!" She is in his arms now, embraced by the cool air of the twisted night. "Helping these fools with their revenges will grant our own revenge after all, and we can stay together forever if we do so! It's what their Id tells them to do… humans can't help but hate and murder each other!"

Her speech falls into a screeching, sinister laughter that echoes above the music. The bell tolls a total of seven times.

[ _N_ ]

The gluttonous axe of a sinner splatters onto flesh.

[ _S_ ]

The greedy noose clings against the neck of the innocent.

[ _F_ ]

The envious poisonous apple ceases the lungs.

[ _V I E R_ ]

The slothful bloodied thread drops into the abyss.

[ _D R E I_ ]

The prideful finger entails an endless slumber.

[ ]

The lustful whip cracks onto the beautiful body.

[ ]

The holy golden slipper falls from the statue of the saint.

In the dead of the night, the _Märchen_ of revenge finally starts.


End file.
